"Can you cum?" he asked wiping cum from his jeans. I touched my cock just below the head, jerked once and my hot seed came dribbling out. I think I...let out a small grunt as two lumps made their way up and out of my shaft. We both laughed, two old men, pants stained with cum, with shriveled cocks. I felt like a p*****n playing doctor again. "Coffee?" Bob asked as we tried to straighten our clothing. "Sounds good to me." I replied. I drove the pot holed road out to paved park road. I graduated from Boston School of the Arts eight years ago and I work as a waitress at this cool café.” “So, you’re an artist,” he said, nodding. “Nice.” “Yes, I have a studio in my apartment and I try to paint every day. That’s why I like being a waitress because it doesn’t tap into my creativity.” “What about you?” I asked, glancing over at his laptop. “I’m a writer... novels and short stories, but lately, mostly poetry. I try to write a poem every day. Never miss a day.” The more he. More

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